Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Living with Heart ❯ Living with Heart ( Chapter 16 )

Living with Heart

Act XV

Tilting her head to the side, Selphie stuck her tongue out and squinted at the screen in an attempt to make the image look like something else. At length she huffed and leaned her head the other way in a similar attempt. “No matter how you look at it, Squall is hugging Sir Laguna.”

“Darlin', we established that ten minutes ago,” Irvine drawled with a smile at her antics. The funniest part was that she was seriously trying to make the screen show something else.

“How long were they gone?” Quistis questioned.

“The first time it was around eight hours,” Irvine answered. After checking the clocked time for the second voyage, he said, “The second trip was pushing nine.” That was a long time to be doing anything, especially when it involved two people who couldn't have been more unsuited for spending quality time together. “Is it just me or is the entire thing a little fishy?”

“Fishy?” Selphie chimed in question, quickly moving closer.

Currently there was just a stilled image of Squall on the President's bike, the two of them hugging. For any other father and son coupling, it would have been just a normal bonding moment.

“Well,” Irvine said slowly, patiently willing to explain. “I can't remember much about Squall as a tyke and I haven't known him as long as the rest of you, but I find it fishy that he's being so darn intimate with the President.”

“That much is obvious,” Quistis commented, not belittling the observation. “There's the close proximity and occasional touches, plus the amount of time they're together. No matter how many times I picture the sincerity in Squall's eyes when he said he wanted to be adopted, it just doesn't seem like Squall.”

“Guys,” Selphie spoke up in opposition. “It's really sweet and happy. Everyone needs someone, and maybe Squall's just always needed his dad, you know?”

Taking off his hat, Irvine set it in the seat beside him. “Babe, our dearest leader is a great man and someone I respect and look up to, but facts are facts. Our little ice prince does not have a sweet and happy side. He's a cold, miserable person.”

“He's not miserable Irvine,” the blonde instructor chastised. “While I agree that it's highly doubtful that there is this other side to him, he's not nearly as cold as you might think.”

Violet eyes leveled the older girl with a solemn expression. “I've dabbled in a little Squall watching myself Quisty. This guy is stone cold from the heart outwards. Don't misperceive duty as kindness. When he saved Rinoa and the rest of our hides in every tight scrape, it was out of duty.”

Making a whimpering sound of sadness, Selphie slunk over to the pilot's seat and plopped down. “Are you saying Squall doesn't love us?”

“I can love you enough for ten men. You don't need the Commander,” Irvine soothed.

“Former commander,” Quistis corrected absently.

“I would disagree with you Quisty, since he would have always been the Commander to me, but now that you say he's leaving Garden, I guess that's true.”

“Why does Cid need the videos of Squally and Sir Laguna riding motorcycles?” Selphie posed in question, refocusing on what their powwow was about in the first place.

Eyes staring at the screen of Irvine's laptop for a thoughtful moment, Quistis answered, “Cid's likely looking for the sort of things we've found, the suspicious behavior. Perhaps to find some basis for arguing the adoption.”

“Their long rides together are hardly the most suspicious issues we have on the table,” Irvine pointed out. “While I'm loyal to Balamb Garden, I've never liked Cid. Don't get me wrong, I don't like Headmaster Martine either, so it might just be an issue with authority.”

“I'll act like I didn't hear that,” the Head Instructor commented.

“I haven't talk with Cid, just you,” Selphie said with a nod Quistis' way, expressing that she was not qualified to cast judgment on the Headmaster's behavior.

“Orders standing, these videos go to Cid,” Irvine declared. “Naturally he doesn't need to know we checked them out. I don't really care what he's up to, since it doesn't seem possible for anyone to just make the Balamb Lion do anything. We shouldn't worry.”

Quistis leveled the gunman with a chastising glare. “Irvine Kinneas, you will show some concern for Squall or so help me, I'll interrupt every time you talk to any of the female cadets.”

Sitting upright, Irvine stared at the blonde wide eyed. Clearing his throat he placated, “Even though I don't flirt with anyone but Selphie,” he emphasized his point with a quick wink the pilot's way, “Such measures are extremely unnecessary.”

“We'll see,” Quistis replied while crossing her arms.

“We've got about five minutes before we arrive,” Selphie announced.

“Alright,” the longhaired man conceded. “I'll make copies of the files and ask Cid what I can when I see him.”

“Thank you,” Quistis said in appreciation.

Taking the controls, Selphie switched the autopilot off. “Should we let Zell in on this?” she questioned with an air of uncertainty. Zell was known for not being able to keep secrets, but the boxer had never let them down before.

“That might be a good idea,” Quistis said with a nod of approval. “But, if Cid or Xu ask, then you guys don't know anything. I started this, so if anyone's taking the fall for disobedience, it's me.”

“Roger,” Irvine agreed easily.

“Hey!” Selphie reprimanded. “You'd let Quisty take a bullet for you just like that?”

“Darlin', if it were you, I'd stand up in a heartbeat.”

“You're sleeping on the couch tonight Irvine Kinneas,” Selphie announced with an angry glare at the control panel.

“Selphie,” Quistis spoke up upon receiving a pleading gaze from the gunman. “Irvine's right. There's no sense in all of us being ordered to keep our noses out of this. The worst that could happen is a couple weeks suspension. However, if we're all suspended, then we'll never figure out what's going on.”

“True,” the copper-haired woman mumbled. “Still, I want my boyfriend to care about his friends,” she stated clearly for the cowboy to hear.

“That's harsh darlin',” Irvine drawled with exaggerated hurt. Being a sharpshooter, he shared many similarities with Squall. In his isolation, he rarely cared for anyone to the degree he cared for his friends from the orphanage. He wasn't a cold man, but realistic and unwilling to sacrifice what he cared about most in the world for anything. Between himself and Selphie, plus his hat and collection of guns, he took care of what he could until it came time to choose.

With a sigh, Quistis began to strap herself in at the telltale feeling of their descent. As the gunman scrambled to secure his computer and self into place, she realized this was Selphie's revenge and that the honest cowboy wouldn't be sleeping on a couch.

Hand against the window, Laguna stared down from his office with an almost pained expression. It was his second day without having seen Squall, which was a travesty in itself. Adding to his distress, Kiros sat patiently in front of his desk while he considered the real possibility of finding a girlfriend.

“I don't like it,” the President murmured for the tenth time.

“Whether or not you like it doesn't matter. We need to set this up in case Kramer starts making allegations.”

“But no one knows about Squall and me. We've been careful,” Laguna asserted. Turning from his place, he leveled his close friend with a pleading gaze. “What would Squall think? I couldn't do something like this, even for show.”

“Squall would no doubt encourage you. The boy knows a thing or two about politics,” Kiros assured calmly. “You can talk to him before we go any further, but I strongly advise you to do this Laguna.”

Brows drawn together, the raven-haired man bit his lip in thought. Walking back to his seat, he sunk down in a slouch, as if he were a five year old refusing to sit properly because he wanted to express his distaste for whatever was going on. “Would I have to date her?” he questioned with obvious distain.

“A few dates for the public to see, just to get the rumors going.”

Frowning Laguna imagined himself having a candle lit dinner with whoever was chosen to play the part. It was not a pretty picture in his mind, not when it wasn't Squall he was with. There was also the slap in the face that came with knowing a fake date would be more than he could ever do with Squall.

Shaking his head, Laguna refused. “No, I won't do it.”

Sighing, Kiros rubbed his temples. Just when he thought the strong willed man was about to agree, the same declaration came up. “Fine,” the advisor conceded in defeat. “Ward said he'd deliver your message tonight and stay at the estate, so he'll be by before he leaves.”

Sitting straight and leaning forward, the President's eyes lit up with hope. “Can't I call Squall?” he requested excitedly. “Talking over the phone can't hurt, just for tonight?”

“No, absolutely not,” Kiros shot down, his dark brown eyes staring sternly at the President. “I found you two in bed even after it was made perfectly clear that anything more than a handshake was too much. If you can't keep your hands off each other, then you can't be in direct contact at all.”

“But I can control myself, I swear,” Laguna assured desperately. “I just wanna hear his voice.”

“No,” Kiros stated again. “The lines are secure, but we can't take a chance that someone might be listening in. You're like an adolescent around the boy Laguna, I just know you'll wind up exchanges words that no father and son should.”

“What if you you're in the room with me?” Laguna suggested.

Finding the pleading look in hazel green eyes too much to deny, Kiros cracked. It was like denying a starving child a scrap of food. Laguna reverted to a child the moment Squall was mentioned, and acted as if the boy were the damn air he needed to survive. It was an alarming weakness for the President to have. “I'll think about it. Later though, if only to say goodnight.”

Shooting from his seat, Laguna nearly jumped over the desk, but opted to have some control and rushed around it. Pulling his friend into a backbreaking hug, he rejoiced the prospect of saying goodnight to Squall.

“Can Ward still give him my letters?” the President pushed. He had a feeling Kiros couldn't be nagged into letting him speak for more than a couple minutes, which was not nearly enough time to say everything he wanted to. He'd been writing letters all day, which were to be safely delivered by Ward that evening.

“I don't know what that boy sees in you,” Kiros commented with exasperation. Laguna's choice in partner was perhaps the worst there could possibly be. Yet, the longhaired President had never seemed happier than in recent weeks. He could not deny the kindhearted goofball the chance at being so happy. Still, he felt quite concerned about the mindset of the Balamb Lion, a man rumored to have a heart of ice. This relationship certainly didn't have the markings of one that would last very long, and he wasn't looking forward to the sort of heartbreak that seemed inevitable.

James practically collapsed against the soft grass. Panting and sweating beyond what he thought someone of his particular conditioning should be, he felt inclined to change his judgment on what the President's son could do.

Without a flicker of a smirk at his victory, Squall wiped his glistening brow with his forearm and drank from his water bottle. He always enjoyed a good work out, especially when Seifer wasn't on hand. It was nice to know he wouldn't have to seek the blond knight out every time he wanted to spar. Though, he would have to wait for Seifer if he wanted to use his gunblade, unless his bodyguard felt up for training over the next several years to become a master gunbladist.

Dark eyes scanned the dimming sky. It would be dark in an hour, maybe less. Sitting up, James felt a more natural pattern of breathing set in. “You surprise me,” he admitted while raking his hand through damp blond hair.

Squall didn't respond with anything more than an absent shrug. Taking a seat, he stretched out a bit, his muscles feeling a bit cramped. His training regime hadn't been regulated since before the war and his body was beginning to feel the effects of it. He'd need to establish some sort of schedule, which would be easier said than done once Laguna was back in his life every day.

“Considering that advisor Seagill is aware of all the President's affairs, is it safe to assume that President Loire will be kept a safe distance from you?”

Stormy blue eyes stared at the older man for a searching moment. “You're rather curious today,” he said at length, preferring not to divulge details unless absolutely necessary.

“Can you blame me?” James returned. “You are the one who involved me. Now I'm the one with this secret. I hardly know anything, and by nature it is my job to know everything.”

Squall remained silent out of sheer spite, proving that he would only speak if he wanted to. At length he gave a small nod and conceded the point his guard had made. “I don't know how long the President will be staying at the palace.”

“Take a guess,” James urged, almost laughing at the way the boy's lips pressed tightly together in obvious dislike for being ordered.

Refraining from glaring at the blond guard, Squall assured, “I involved you because I know you support the President, not for the sake of a confident.”

“That much is plain to see, but consider my confidence a benefit.”

Shaking his head, Squall sighed. Given the constant surveillance, he didn't need to explain much of anything to James. The man assigned as his bodyguard already knew him well enough to know he wouldn't speak openly or at length.

Tossing the water bottle to the older man, Squall listened to the sound of crickets, now audible without the noise of panting breathes and blocked kicks and punches. The atmosphere felt completely different in the Loire Estate, at least compared to the outside world. He didn't feel cooped up exactly, not yet anyway, but he did have that feeling of isolation. In all his time at Garden, he'd searched for quiet and solitude, but now he hardly knew what to do with himself day in and day out. While traveling around the city seemed enticing, he was hardly fool enough to leave himself to exposed before his birthday.

“You're a tough person to dissect, but I think I'll figure you out some day,” James declared with a note of defeat. He'd have better luck receiving answers from a wall than this tightlipped child. Shirking off his failed attempt, he drank from the bottle liberally.

“I'll tell you any story you want when you can land a solid hit,” the brunet proposed with a slight air of mischief. Ever since their first meeting, he'd felt as though James never grasped the concept of what it took to be SeeD, always underestimating him. It was rather satisfying to demonstrate his skill from time to time, though he was a far cry from flaunting it like his rival.

“You're on,” James accepted as he clambered to his feet. “I'm getting too old for this,” he cursed with a rub to his sore shoulder. Though his charge remained seated for a few more moments, he knew better than to offer a hand. Finding his suit coat neatly folded nearby, he busied himself with setting his tie back in place and looking presentable despite being so sweaty.

The cool night air flittered through damp strands of dark chestnut hair. Squall stood and felt his skin cool rapidly. He could tell it was going to be colder than most nights already. His thin white t-shirt wouldn't be enough if he were going to remain outside much longer.

Halfway back to the estate, Squall's phone rang. Despite the assumption that he would have been receiving calls from Garden nonstop, he'd hardly been contacted at all. Xu had called him once, attempting to pick up where Quistis had left off. Zell had called, just to confirm what he'd told Quistis about leaving.

Reaching into his jean pocket he extracted the source of the noise. Seeing that the specific caller was titled as unknown, the small screen simply informing him the call came from Balamb Garden, he assumed it was the Headmaster. He'd been wondering when the man would gather enough wit to call him personally.

“I need to take this,” Squall said quietly before back tracking a bit. Distancing himself from James, he expressed his want for privacy. The tired looking guard seemed to understand, having dealt with all the circumstances involved with shadowing someone.

Simply flipping the phone open, Squall raised it to his ear and waited. As expected, Cid was both impatient and perceivably frantic.

“Squall?” the Headmaster's voice sounded on the other end. “If that's you at least let me know,” he chastised.

“It's me,” the brunet murmured in reply, recalling his lessons in manners from Matron. Now however, his appreciation for all Edea had done for him was undermined by his constant suspicions about how much she knew regarding his dealings with Cid.

“For Hyne's sake Squall, what are you doing over there?”

“Currently?” Squall questioned with underlying mirth at being able to screw with the Headmaster for the first time. “Or are you referring to my plans for the future?”

“Future plans?” Cid bit out angrily. “Your plans should involve stopping this nonsense and returning at once. Don't make me use force. You belong here.”

While Squall mentally scoffed at Cid's declaration, he kept his knowledge about the so-called reinforcements to himself. His appreciation for Quistis' warning was shown by his ability to not lead to her demotion.

“Cid, perhaps it has escaped your attention that I am not a child. I belong where I choose to belong,” Squall returned coldly, his voice laced with malice.

“Surely you can understand my concerns. The information you have could crush many important people. I cannot allow you to just leave after all this time.”

Glaring at a nearby tree, Squall bit his lip to keep his rising anger under control. He hadn't expected to feel such anger towards Cid, but perhaps that was a subsequent effect of finally affirming that he hadn't wanted the life he'd led prior to escaping to Esthar. “I suppose it'd be pointless to assure you that I have no intentions of ever mentioning what went on and who was involved.”

“Squall, you've never given me any reason to not trust you,” Cid said gently. “But, I can't risk this. You know what position you're putting me in. You have to come back.”

“What would I be coming back to?” Squall questioned bitterly, no longer caring to hide his feelings on the matter after all his years of showing Cid complete indifference. Slowly, he moved further away from listening ears as the threat of losing his cool increased.

There was a heavy sigh on the other end. “Squall, I can't tell you how I wish things hadn't turned out this way. I was terrified of what might happen if Edea ever lost control of her powers. Garden was my only hope, but we were struggling. I never wanted it to be about the money or the contracts, but that was the only way.”

“You haven't answered my question.” One arm casually circling his waist, he paced slowly. He'd never understood how Cid had gone from reluctantly letting his visits with Norg continue to soliciting him to every influential leader in hopes of favoritism.

“Under my eyes, you don't have to do anything. I just need to have some control over where you go and whom you speak to. I won't ask you to do anything you don't want to,” the bargaining man assured.

Squall hated himself for believing the sincerity in the Headmaster's words. But, he couldn't help but feel as though if he'd only spoken up long ago then Cid would have ended it all. Granted, he had spoken up on several occasions, but he'd never refused outright.

Time was what he needed to consider everything, but he didn't have any more time. He wanted to ask if he could back in the field, but that was likely out of bounds. There was also the stipulation of being famous. With his face known among the general populace, what good was he in the field any way?

“Squall?” Cid questioned. The brunet's silence on the phone was easy to mistake for his absence all together.

“If…” Squall began but trailed off. He didn't want to be weak and he didn't want to go back. What he needed was to have Laguna's arms wrapped firmly around him as a reminder of what he now wanted out of life.

“`If' what Squall?” Cid asked earnestly, his voice seemingly like that of a worried father. At length when there was no reply, he urged, “Come home Squall. Garden is where you belong, I know you can feel it deep inside. You belong here, as SeeD. It's what you've worked so hard for. Can you just give it all up as if it never meant anything?”

Leaning against the tree for support, Squall stared off with turbulent emotion in his eyes. “Why should I trust that things wouldn't continue where they left off, if you can't trust that I won't leak my information?”

“I trust you Squall, I do. But I'd be remiss as Headmaster if I didn't take the extra precaution. You know what it's like to be the leader, to have so much counting on every decision. I know you understand why I must insist upon this.”

“I know,” Squall spoke without thinking. He wanted to kick himself for betraying his feelings on the matter.

“Then come home,” Cid pressed.

The hand that gripped his side tightly released its hold and traveled to rub his brow. He felt so conflicted between what was right and wrong. Hearing Garden referred to as his home sounded so terribly tempting. It fit perfectly. Garden was his home, yet if he were to go back he'd be pathetic and weak. “This is my home now,” he stated. Though his voice was stern with resolve, it was entirely for show. He'd never doubted himself more.

There was a loud crash at the other end. “The heavens damn you boy!” Cid cursed angrily. “I'd hoped to reason with you, but you leave me no choice.”

“I will defeat anyone you send,” Squall assured. The only people he wouldn't be capable of fighting were his friends, and he felt certain that if Quistis was loyal to him then so was everyone else. He didn't need to worry about fighting anyone he cared about.

“I realize now that sending SeeD is pointless. I'm assured by instructor Trepe's constant prying that neither she nor the others would be willing to drag you back. However, I think it'll prove more effective to use your weakness.”

Stormy eyes narrowed. Squall wasn't sure what Cid was getting at. After a moment, his eyes widened and his heart raced. His world seemed to fall apart as he feared the worst had happened. Cid knew about Laguna, somehow managing to find evidence of the incestuous affair.

“You have a lion's pride,” Cid said after a moment. “If you will not return willingly, then I'm not above informing your friends of your various deeds over the years. I am quite certain they know nothing, and they know nothing because you don't want them to know.”

Feeling rather queasy, Squall swallowed thickly. Relief and horror gripped him at the same time. He couldn't have been more elated that Laguna remained free of implication, yet one of his worst fears had been for his friends to find out. Excluding Seifer, the others knew nothing, and he carried on each day with an impassive mask to make certain it stayed that way.

“What would they think, I wonder?” Cid spoke slowly. His consoling tone mocked the scenario he proposed. “I hardly think it would matter if you gave them the full truth, the fact remains they'd learn what you've done. How many men have you slept with now? I don't think I've been able to keep count. Just what shameful lengths have you gone to, to make sure your partners were kept happy?”

“I never wanted any of it!” Squall hissed, his emotions getting the better of him.

“And neither did I, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I doubt anyone but you and I will see it that way. I can smear your name without implicating any other parties. You are a prideful boy who never failed to please anyone. Don't fail me now Squall. You have twenty-four hours to be standing before my office desk, or I call them in and fill in the missing blanks to your past.”

With a muffled click Cid was gone. For several minutes, Squall listened to the silence on the other end. Nothing was ever simple, nothing was ever easy, and nothing ever turned out the way he wanted.

Shutting his phone, Squall stared blankly at the ground. Still leaning against the tree, his hand fell limply to his side.

`A lion's pride,' he thought with a vague understanding of how true it was. He'd never thought of himself as having too much pride, but as he began to plan out how he was to leave, he realized it was his weakness.

Kiros watched Laguna pace back and forth. Frowning, he waited for the President to acknowledge his forgotten presence. When hazel green eyes turned his way he stood from his seat. “What is it?” the dark skinned advisor questioned.

“I don't know, maybe I'm paranoid,” Laguna muttered as he continued to pace.

“You didn't even use half your time, is he busy?”

“No, he wasn't busy,” Laguna replied. “He was…”

Sighing, Kiros prompted, “What?”

“He was distant, I think. I don't know, something just seemed wrong,” the President said with slight panic.

Shaking his head, Kiros reminded himself of the time Laguna wanted to call a national emergency when his secretary had shown up late. The man worried more than anyone else suspected, especially about those he cared for deeply. “I'm sure he's fine, maybe just a little stir crazy or lonely.”

“I'm going to call Ward, ask him to look for anything out of the ordinary.”

“Laguna, don't smother the kid. You'll run him off.” While that didn't seem like such a bad idea, it was in the sense that didn't include the raven-haired President's heartbreak.

“But, he sounded different,” Laguna stated with pleading eyes, as if asking permission to check up on his lover.

“Well, how often do you talk to him on the phone?”

Frowning, Laguna rolled his eyes as if to refute his friend's logic. “This was the first time, but that wasn't it.”

Giving up, Kiros walked to the door. “Call Ward, but don't pester him.”

“I won't.” With a forced smile, Laguna waved his friend goodnight.

“Goodnight,” Kiros said in departure.

Using the phone, Laguna dialed a stream of numbers before abruptly hanging up. Tossing the phone to the couch, he paced one way and then another. He couldn't remember where he'd put his little thingamajig, the one that let him type messages to Ward.

It was about ten minutes later before he found it, giving a cry of victory before recalling his urgency. Though the phone was just as capable, he was terrible at using the numbers to type words.

As it turned out, Ward hadn't even arrived at the estate yet. After requesting that his long time friend look for any suspicious behavior, he had nothing left to do but wait. So, with bated breath, Laguna paced his quarters while waiting for the thingamajig to do something when Ward sent him another message.

“Type something!” Laguna practically shouted at the small device, his words obviously not reaching the harpoon wielding man somewhere near his estate.

After an eternity of pacing, his leg cramping up, Laguna dove for the mini keyboard with a screen. Sighing in relief, Laguna read that nothing seemed particularly out of place.

Reassured that Squall was fine, likely just lonely as Kiros mentioned, Laguna felt like he could get some sleep that night. He'd find sleep knowing that Squall had his letters, reading about everything he couldn't express in their five-minute phone conversation. He'd tried to express everything that he'd kept inside over the past couple days, speaking a mile a minute the second Squall answered, but it'd become apparent that Squall sounded almost depressed in the occasional hums of agreement.

TBC…